Entirety
by champagne-and-razor-blades
Summary: "There must be something you've fantasized about, Beckett." there is.


"There has to be something," Castle murmurs against the skin of her neck, the brush of his lips burning hot.

They are lying on his bed, facing each other with her leg slung over his hip and his hand up her shirt. Beckett tilts his chin up with two fingers; steals a quick, dirty kiss from his open mouth, her tongue flicking against the back of his teeth before he pulls away.

"Not distracting me this time, Beckett. Tell me."

"I told you," she mumbles, "There is nothing I've fantasized about that we haven't done already. Nothing."

"There _is_ something," he says, firm, and he knows it's true from the delicate color rising in her cheeks and the tone of her voice. Her poker face is slipping, which possibly has something to do with the way he's rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb.

(She's pretending she doesn't notice, but he can feel her heartbeat against his fingertips. Oh, she's noticing.)

Beckett bites her lip, focuses on his jawline instead of meeting his eyes. There is something, several somethings, in fact - she's always been rather adventurous in bed - but half are things she wants to save for later and the other half she isn't sure if she can even say to his face without losing her dignity.

"Tell me."

Castle is so earnest, so sincere, that she finds herself thinking about what she used to think about on all those nights so long ago, those nights when she told him she didn't want him even though her body ached for him. The night in L.A. All the other nights. One of her go-to fantasies.

"Well-" she finds herself beginning, unbidden. His whole face lights up. "There is one, but- no, I can't."

He surges forward, a tsunami against her, and spreads an enormous hand over the curve of her hip. His palm squeezes as his mouth covers hers, pulling her hips against his, and oh _yes _Castle _yes_, she can feel exactly what she's doing to him because it is pressed in the perfect spot right between her legs. The combination of him lewdly grinding against her and _sucking on her tongue _is enough for her to crack.

(If she's honest with herself, she doesn't mind giving in, not this time.)

Beckett gives herself a delicious moment to sigh into his mouth, scrape her teeth over the wet curve of his bottom lip before she pushes him away. He looks at her expectantly. He knows he's won.

Bastard.

She leans in, closer closer closer, her mouth by his ear. She blows a stream of hot breath over his earlobe, her lips just brushing.

"Castle," she whispers, gulping a little bit because she has actually never asked this of any man before. Never wanted to ask this of any man before. "Castle, touch yourself."

She feels his reaction in the way his hands slide down to her ass and give it a firm squeeze. He's rewarding her.

"Why Katherine Beckett, I had no idea that you-"

"Shut up," Beckett growls, untangling her leg from around his waist and tugging his hand out of her bra before she sits up. He tries to follow with her, but she pushes him back on the bed with a hand to the chest.

"Touch yourself." her voice has a dangerous edge to it, because he took away her control and she _doesn't like it, _not this time, anyway.

He watches her, awed, as she shifts to sit beside him, her long bare legs curled under her body. Expectant.

"Now." Beckett commands.

And really, who is he to refuse her that?

He pulls his cock through the slit in his boxers, watching her watch him, painfully hard because Kate Beckett wants him to do this and she _wants to watch. _Her jaw drops, just slightly. Castle swipes his thumb over his tip, spreads the beading fluid, and then slowly, slowly closes his fist, one finger at a time. From the drawn-out noise that Kate makes, he thinks he's maybe teasing her more than he's teasing himself.

He starts an impossibly slow rhythm, not trying to stop the way his hips jerk every so often.

Beckett watches, transfixed, her eyes following the motion of his fist. She's almost a bit embarrassed to find herself swallowing involuntarily - she wants him in her mouth, but this is almost better because he does this, does this a lot, does this when she's not around, and he does it while thinking about her. The thought sends a tug of arousal to her center.

One of her hands trips across his chest, massaging the firm muscle of his pec, and his eyes slip shut, hand moving faster and faster. The ache between her legs builds to the point where it's almost unbearable, painful, and she can't resist sliding her free hand between her legs, pressing hard through the damp fabric of her underwear.

Ahh. Just there.

Beckett can't think can't breathe can't speak except for the little groans that sound a lot like "fuck, Castle" chanted over and over again, because she is sitting on Richard Castle's bed rubbing rough circles over her clit while he touches himself for her.

"Kate- god, I'm close, do you want me to stop, or-" just speaking seems to be a struggle for him; he can't seem to stop the deep groans that punctuate his words and, fuck, he's enjoying this as much as she is, isn't he? Maybe they should do this more often.

"No, finish," she mutters, "I want to see you make yourself come."

There is a short silence after that, silent except for the slick sounds of his hand and the rasp of her fingers against her underwear. And their breathing, their synchronized breathing.

God, that feels good, fuck, she's so close so close so close and then-

She orgasms before he does, but she can't bother being ashamed of it because it feels too damn good for that. Beckett's head tips back, her hips thrusting against the bruising pressure of her fingertips as she shudders with the almost violent waves of pleasure.

He comes a few seconds later in hot spurts over his stomach with a guttural growl and an arch of his back towards the ceiling.

Beckett takes a few seconds to get her breathing back under control, waiting for the clenching in her groin to stop, before she leans across the bed, plucks some tissues from the bedside table and cleans up the mess he's made on his bare stomach. Castle cracks one eye open to look at her, a grin splitting across his face.

She leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips, sucking the bottom one into her mouth.

"You liked that?" he asks, softly, a laugh coloring his voice.

"You know I did."

(He does.)


End file.
